Do Not Write Ill Of The Merpeople
by Twilight Joltik
Summary: Mabel doesn't quite like the way Dipper is portraying Mermando in the book they're writing. Therefore, he must pay. One-shot, based on Dipper's and Mabel's Guide to Mystery and Nonstop Fun.


_**AN- Well, I got Dipper's and Mabel's Guide to Mystery and Nonstop Fun today. And I decided to write a story about a certain part of it, because I love this show and have wanted to write a thing for it for ages now. The thing I'm writing about is on page 79, if anyone cares. Well, I only own my own idea, thank you, and enjoy! –Twilight Joltik**_

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 _Do Not Write Ill Of The Merpeople_

 _By Twilight Joltik_

Dipper found it abnormally hard to focus on writing that evening. He so wanted to add in things about the underwater oddities of their town into his own (unnumbered) book, but for some reason he couldn't even think over all the noise in his and Mabel's room.

Just as he began chronicling his experiences with merpeople, Mabel butted into him, pushing him out of the way to get a look at the journal. Luckily, he hadn't had his pen to the page when she did so, or he might have shoved her back significantly harder. "Hey, bro-bro, what'cha writing?", his twin questioned cheerfully, her smile turning to outrage and horror as her eyes scanned the page. She gave an unnecessarily dramatic gasp. "Dipper! How could you say such things! Mermando does not smell like a seafood restaurant!"

Mabel clicked a pink pen and began to write in the book, continuing to block him from shoving her out of the way. He was only able to regain control after Candy suddenly pipped up to ask if Mabel wanted any more snacks, as Grenda was making a run down to the kitchen. Food, as always, was the great determination-breaker needed for Dipper to reclaim his journal, but he vaguely wondered how he hadn't realized the two were there before.

It took mere sentences for him to be able to block out the world around him and get in the metaphorical "zone", but this proved to be a bad thing very quickly. His concentration stopped him from being able to realize Mabel was launching a counteroffensive until it was far too late. And by far too late, of course, he meant he was already collapsed on the floor in painful spasms of laughter before he could even react to his sister's friends' tickle attack. "St-stop it!", he howled over the overwhelming screeching laughter that was escaping him. "Stop that-that tickles!"

"I believe that is the point," Candy stated plainly as she grabbed a length of red ribbon off the floor. Quickly, Grenda pinned him down and the glasses-wearing one of their duo tied the ribbon around his wrists, which were now firmly locked behind his back.

Unceremoniously, the closet door was opened, and Grenda threw him in there. It was then locked firmly behind him, leaving him in the small, dark mass of mostly crumpled clothes and ancient bags of Gummy Koalas. He tried to pull his wrists out of the ribbon, or at least pull the ribbon apart, but it didn't budge. Mentally, he made a note to add "frighteningly great at tying knots" to his list of Candy's skills.

Time crawled on with Mabel and her friends giggling from beyond the door and Dipper occasionally making a cry for them to let him out, but they always replied with a laugh and a promise to add things about "hot vampires" or something to the book. His eyes adjusted to the closet's darkness after a while, and he managed to find a hairpin laying on the floor, sparking in the faint sliver of light under the door. Great, he thought, now if only he could untie himself, he could pick the lock and get out of there!

By the time he'd managed to pull the ribbon off his wrists by way of breaking at least five hangers, the room had fell eerily quiet, and he was certain that their circulation had been cut off eight times over. He supposed the three had gone downstairs to watch one of their stupid Dream Boy High movies or something, but the effect was still starkly unsettling. When he had managed to pick the lock, he found the room all but deserted, and his book no longer on his desk.

Letting out a sound somewhere between a groan and a snarl, he went downstairs to tell Mabel to give him his book back, but the only person he found there was Grunkle Stan, asleep in the recliner and snoring like a chainsaw. Logically, the next place to check was outside, which was exactly where he found his sister and her friends. They were in the company of a mummy, a werewolf, and a zombie, as well as Pacifica Northwest, who looked like she was willing to kill all three of them.

After staring at the scene speechless for a good fifteen seconds, Dipper found his words: "You know, I'm not even gonna ask," and walked right back inside. He supposed the journal could wait until the next day.

 _-Zkloh lq wkh forvhw, Glsshu ghflghg wr sxw shdqxw exwwhu lq Pdeho'v, Fdqgb'v, dqg Juhqgd'v vrfnv odwhu dv uhyhqjh.-_


End file.
